


Reminiscence

by TerryFoolery



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, wontaek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerryFoolery/pseuds/TerryFoolery
Summary: In which Leo remembers his past





	Reminiscence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this picture --> https://data.whicdn.com/images/311244653/superthumb.jpg

The steps set foot on the dry grass, crispy and lifeless, as Taekwoon made his way through his memories. The sky grey as ash, clouds paused, watching his bony figure slowly moved across the ruined field. The wind cried silently in the background.

 

 

His hair white as snow, reflecting the sunlight that seemed all-too bright. His eyes hidden under his hair, staring forward despite seeing nothing, yet emotions—sadness, agony, happiness, ecstasy—reflected from the dark pupils. His dry lips felt rather lonesome, and no words had escaped from it ever since he had set foot on this grassland he used to know very well.

 

 

Then came the disgusting roars--cannons and guns. Men shouting like siren, screaming, and he tensed like never before. Smoke emerged, and for its sight Taekwoon felt his steps quickened, the crispy and lifeless grass became only louder and louder. Then joined his breathe, his pant, exhausted and desperate and he never liked it. It made him sound vulnerable, injured, mad... His teeth gritted and he would not be surprised if they break from being pushed together too tightly. The siren and the smoke and the footsteps crescendoed. 

 

 

Soon joined Wonshik.

 

 

Only the footsteps and Taekwoon knew it was him. Dry, quiet, and they never synchronise with his. Not even once. He had never heard his breathe, nor seen his face, because he could not turn back. He only knew he was there, somewhere behind him, demanding he move forward. He was somewhere on this very large, battlefield, but he did not know how to reach him. They kept running, smoke and siren followed like preying creatures to a deer. Deep down, a small part of Taekwoon wished Wonshik was speeding up, was trying to catch up with him because he had no idea where the younger was, but maybe he saw him, so as risky as it was, Taekwoon slowed his steps down from time to time, hoping to feel a hand grabbing onto his and a voice calling out his name.

 

 

That never happened. Even until now, none of that had ever happened.

 

 

There used to be a special thread bonding between them. A thread however made of chains and metal, no smooth silk or any comfort. It was rough, a little rusty, and it was made during the worst of times. The swirling emotions, the sepia memories, the lingering smell Wonshik had left on each and every inch of Taekwoon's flesh...

 

 

Taekwoon wakes up in an empty bed, an album rests on his laps. It seems he had been looking at them before falling asleep, traces of tears still visible on his cheeks. He moves his eyes through the photos once again with the intention of putting it back in place and notices that his fingers have been resting on a picture of a man in long, brown coat, looking into the distance with the same pair of eyes Taekwoon would have been staring into—only if their owner was here, under the same blanket, on the same bed sheet, on top of himself. That was over a year ago; Wonshik was taken away by the siren and smoke.

 

 

"Good morning, Mr. Jung," greets his psychiatrist who makes his way into the room with the familiar smile. "How are you feeling today?" 

 

 

"Not bad," Taekwoon responds and notices Hakyeon’s worrying eyes towards the old album on his laps. "Just went through old memories."

 

 

"Mr. Jung it is extremely advised that you refrain from opening up your ‘wounds.’"

 

 

"I know, and thank you for your concern, but I just couldn't help it."

 

 

"Mr. Jung..."

 

 

"It all happened too suddenly—I’m too used to his presence, seeing his face, all the time, every day…but now he's gone. I just need to see him every now and then." He feels tears welling up at this statement but forces them back down.

 

 

"Understood. Would you like a walk in the garden, then? For fresh air, and perhaps a break from...the fields you had been in?"

 

 

Taekwoon nods and closes the album. He puts it near his pillow and gets out of his patient bed and follows Dr. Cha downstairs.


End file.
